I was merely a morbid Santa. I gave gifts free of price, my gifts shared to all. Young, old, grumpy, depressed, overly excited, they all got a gift. The gift of freedom, to be done with the harsh world of reality, free of pain and memories. I gave them a place where they didn't need to worry about friends, money, judgments. I gave them a gift I yearned for myself. I gave them death.
It was a peaceful process, nothing cruel or painful. A plunge in their heart, they were dead in an instant. They were alive and for an instant dead, now they were nothing. Once here, forever gone. Every memory, idea, action was swooshed away like the smoke of cigars. That moment I took their life away was religious, knowing I gave them something I could never have for myself.
Some would see immortality as a gift, having the ability to grow with the world forming and changing in and out of society. For me it was a burden, it's burned my soul every day I was stuck alive. Living was my fear, it brought pain to me and the only way I calmed was ridding this burden for someone else. Because once they died they were done, there was no god, no heaven to live a second life after death. Once you died everything you've done in life was gone, you were nothing, the body your conscious once took home in was empty. A brain full of ideas was emptied, blank. The only god you had was yourself, you created a god to replicate your morals, put an idea into an object.
I was a gift giver, dealing the cards of death.
